Page 46

‘I’m in no hurry. By the way, I’m Tom.’ He offered a handshake.

‘I know,’ Fleur said, a warm smile breaking across her face to reach her eyes. She clasped his hand. ‘Hello again, Tom Catchlove.’

12

Tom was still looking at her in wonder when they stepped outside. The sea breeze stirred their hair as Fleur pointed.

‘Let’s walk the Esplanade.’

‘You knew?’ he said, framing a question while feeling awestruck.

She chuckled. ‘Not until you mentioned the circumstances. But I remember that brief time we spent together as vividly as you do.’

‘I can’t believe it’s you!’

‘It is . . . the girl of your dreams,’ she jested, not realising how her joke hit its mark.

He couldn’t talk about his feelings yet so he steered the conversation to Miss Jackson. ‘That awful housekeeper,’ he said. ‘She terrified me . . . but not you.’

‘I hate injustice at any time. She was being deliberately cruel to you, when you deserved a big hug and lots of empathy. I worried about you after we left with your mother.’

‘Thank you for whatever you did. As young as I was, I felt as though you and your father would take good care of her and my sister.’

‘We did, I promise you that. Have you visited the grave yet?’

‘No, planning to next week. I arrived a few nights ago and have been finding lodgings and some work, getting myself acquainted with the neighbourhood.’

‘Attending dances,’ she said, matching his slightly weary tone.

He grinned. ‘That was a mate’s idea but I don’t regret it,’ he said, casting her a shy glance.

They passed the rotunda. Lights were strung between lampposts, achieving a sparkly pathway along the shore.

‘The bands will be playing most weekends come summer,’ she remarked. ‘It’s lovely down here and everyone is usually in such happy spirits. Shall we walk the jetty?’

‘I’d like that,’ he said, wanting to pinch himself that this was the same Fleur Appleby he’d carried a torch for most of his days. How strange and wonderful life could be.

‘Are you always this economical with your words, Tom?’

He smiled at her teasing. ‘Probably.’

‘Never turned into a chatterbox, then?’

He shook his head.

‘I remember liking that about you all those years ago,’ she said, smiling back.

The breeze stiffened slightly but it was pleasantly mild and he loved the way it teased a few strands of her hair free from their neat styling. She didn’t disappoint from his vision of how she might have turned out. Her hair was slightly darker than it had been as a child but remained a mystery colour between blonde and brown. There had been moments earlier in the evening when it glowed like a summer sunset, though right now, beneath the moonlight, it appeared fair.

He glanced back at the Palais and she followed his line of sight.

‘This is a bathing pavilion, which apparently can cater to five hundred bathers,’ she explained.

‘Why the tower?’

‘Oh, just an attractive addition, I think. It serves as an observation tower. People sneak up there.’ She pointed. ‘I think I can see two pairs of lovers right now,’ she said, grinning, and then quickly moved on. ‘There’s a rooftop garden as well.’

‘I think the lovers are staring at us, wishing they were out on the jetty instead.’